


All These Wounds (that I can't get unwound)

by HematiteBadger



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Episode 81, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 01:13:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15919923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HematiteBadger/pseuds/HematiteBadger
Summary: Loss is becoming a constant, but not everything is gone. A quiet morning on the floor of Newton's office.





	All These Wounds (that I can't get unwound)

Even before she opened her eyes, Sasha could tell it wasn’t going to be a good morning. The unchanging light of Newton’s office was stabbing through her eyelids already, she could feel the familiar ache and oozing of her wounds reopening, and there was a person-sized weight pressed against her back and an arm draped around her shoulders.

By the time her brain registered that there was something _very_ wrong with that last part, there was already a dagger in her hand. She readied herself for an attack, but sleep had dulled her reaction time, and in the space between drawing a weapon and spinning around to strike she recognized the sound of familiar, sleep-slowed breathing. The person-sized weight was on the small end of what she would consider person-sized, and the arm around her shoulders only reached partway. She settled down again. Just Hamid. That was all right, then.

It was another few heartbeats before she woke up fully enough to realize that no, that _wasn’t_ all right, actually. She reached back, aiming a light elbow at his ribs. “Oi. Wake up.”

Relative stature meant that his ribs weren’t where she had anticipated. Her elbow hit empty air, the momentum of her attempted strike rolling her backwards until she was nearly on top of Hamid. He shifted to accommodate her new position, cuddling more tightly against her side and resting his head on her shoulder. This was so far from the intended outcome that Sasha froze, unsure of her next move and just hoping it wouldn’t involve punching someone she was sort of growing to like in the face. She pulled back for another elbow jab, slipping the dagger into her other hand. Not that she was going to _stab_ Hamid, of course, but a little poke might be an effective alarm clock if nothing else worked.

Hamid sighed in his sleep. It was a quiet, contented sound that spoke of more comfort than any of them had probably had in months. Sasha found herself reluctant to shatter that peace. And, as strange as it felt to admit it, she didn’t think she minded the situation all that much. There was comfort in having this little physical reminder that he was _there_ , this person who was suddenly her only constant in an ever-shifting world of strangers. She was an ocean and a literal lifetime away from everything she had ever known, and people kept leaving or dying just as she was starting to get used to relying on them, but through it all Hamid had been right beside her. She was only now starting to realize just how glad she was to have him around. Let him stay where he was for a little while longer; the companionship might be good for both of them. She shifted her weight to a more comfortable position, settling in for the duration. This was fine.

It was fine for about a minute and a half before the discomfort of _someone is way too close to me_ overrode everything else. The elbow came into play again, more carefully targeted this time. “Hamid. _Hamid_.”

A muffled grunt disrupted that steady breathing, followed by a few bleary mumbles. “Hm?” Hamid lifted his head, the rest of him staying where it was.

Sasha gave him another nudge. “Get _off_.”

He blinked at her for a moment before the reality of the situation dawned, and then his eyes widened. “Oh!” It was a sort of startled yelp as he scrambled back from her, the arm that had been wrapped around her pushing off unpleasantly from her ribs on his way. “Sorry, sorry!”

Sasha just grunted as she hauled herself stiffly into a sitting position. She felt _old_ in the mornings now, which was unsettling. Things popped and groaned in her back as she stretched, and the spot where Hamid’s hand had been felt like it was going to bruise. One hand went to her spine and the other to her ribs, and she let out a little groan.

“Sorry.” It was quieter this time, worried and sheepish rather than the previous frantic yelp. Hamid was sitting a few feet away from her, still half tangled in the bedroll he’d been sleeping in, and looking disheveled. Really _properly_ disheveled, like a normal person who’d walked all day and then slept on the ground should, with mussed hair and rumpled clothing. The pillow-creases on his cheek, she noted, matched up to the seams and studs on her jacket. And he wasn’t making any effort to fix any of it yet, which was unusual. He was just watching her with a concerned sort of look, like he was waiting to see her reaction to something. She waved a hand at him with another grunt, trying to convey _It’s fine_. She had managed to keep the others from noticing just how bad she was in the mornings thus far, and even without that extra impetus to keep quiet she’d had far worse accidental knocks than this one. And with Hamid, she could at least be sure that it really _had_ been accidental.

Her dismissal brought on a new wave of stumbling words, so either she’d gotten the reassurance thing wrong or it had just flown over his head. “I know you’re not comfortable with having people in your personal space,” he continued, stating the obvious. “And I wouldn’t… well, I wouldn’t _knowingly_ violate that.” A touch of color rose in his cheeks, and the next words came out in a mumble. “And I certainly wasn’t trying to take advantage of the situation.”

This was so far removed from any concern Sasha might have had that she spent several moments unable to respond. “Really didn’t think you were,” she finally managed. A vague attempt at a smile. “You wouldn’t still have both kidneys if I did.” When he lost a little of his distressed look at that, she felt surprisingly encouraged to say more. “Look, I’m not _happy_ about having someone cuddling up to me,” she said, ignoring the brief moment where she sort of _had_ been. A shrug. “But you were asleep. I can’t get too mad about that. Just… don’t do it again, all right?”

“No, of course not.” Hamid had freed himself from his bedding at last and was now trying, with little success, to roll or fold it into something portable. A little sigh escaped him. “To tell you the truth, my mind was… somewhere else. Thinking about other times. Other people.”

Sasha tensed instinctively at what sounded like the beginning of some kind of heartfelt confession. “Yeah?” she said noncommittally. She looked over Hamid’s shoulder to see the blanket cocoon that was Grizzop, still asleep and bundled up against the light. _Wake up_ , she begged silently, _Hamid’s having feelings at me. Help_. The goblin didn’t stir, which was just unfair. Why did telepathic powers never suddenly manifest when you needed them? Thus left alone and adrift in uncharted waters, she attempted to press forward. “Is this because we’re trying to hunt down your ex-girlfriend?”

Hamid flinched, but he was the one who’d brought her up first – if in a roundabout way – so it wasn’t like he could blame her for that. “Among other things,” he said quietly. “I mean, that part may have contributed to…” He waved a hand at her to indicate the state they’d woken up in, which she was doing her best to forget before his embarrassment on the subject somehow managed to infect her. He made a weak, ironic sound. “But, compared to everything else…”

That was fair, Sasha had to admit with a curt nod. She got to her feet, letting the various bits of her realign themselves with the ease of long practice in sleeping on the ground, and made a discreet check down her shirt. The morning bleeding had stopped, and her jacket was heavy enough that it was keeping the mess contained. For how long she didn’t know, given that she was unlikely to find somewhere discreet to change any time soon, but it would do for now. She wadded up the blanket that had been folded under her head – her only concession to bedding given the mild temperature and her instinct not to get tangled up in something the way Hamid just had – into a smaller bundle, and then continued to watch him try to do the same for a moment before it got annoying. “Oh, here,” she said, moving to his side.

 She shot him a sideways look as she knelt to help him fold his own bundle into something a bit more presentable than hers, studying him for a moment. He looked weary, as they all did all the time now, but more than anything else he looked _small_. Which was an odd thought to have about someone who had only ever come up to her waist, but normally he filled so much space by virtue of sheer personality that his physical size became irrelevant. Now that that personality was so drawn in on itself, he looked like he’d _shrunk_. He also looked like he’d been crying at some point during the night, and might possibly be trying not to do so again. Not that that was unusual for Hamid, of course, and she hardly even noticed it anymore except to roll her eyes occasionally, but given what he’d been through over the last few days, well, for once it felt justified. Some form of comfort was probably in order, not that she had any idea how to give it. She sat back on her heels, keeping the bedroll between them for whatever protection it would offer. “Listen,” she said hesitantly. “In case I didn’t say it before, I’m sorry about your sister. And about Bertie, too, I guess,” she added after a moment’s thought. “I mean, he’s no great loss to the world, except that he made a good shield, but I know you liked him, and I’m sorry you’re going to miss him.” There. That wasn’t a bad effort, was it?

Hamid’s face did something complicated for a while, but when it settled it was in something sort of like a smile. “Thank you, Sasha. That’s… I appreciate your saying that.” Not a bad effort at all, then. Good. He stood up with slow stiffness and breathed in, and she could see him pulling himself together, first mentally and then physically. She had never actually paid too much attention to the process before, just seen its results, and it was an intriguing sight. He ran a hand through his tousled hair, and as his curls fell back into place so did the rest of him, the mussed and rumpled look vanishing and leaving only his usual charm. The familiar white handkerchief that flicked out of wherever they came from seemed a mere afterthought, an affectation on top of an affectation. That feeling of smallness to him was gone as well when he looked back up at her, which was comforting. Like he’d gone back to being Hamid again, confident and elegant and handsome enough that even Sasha was able to recognize it, not that she particularly cared. The person she’d mostly grown to trust to keep her safe when the people attacking them were using words instead of weapons. “I’m all right,” he said, almost to himself, and she wasn’t going to argue with him.

He started to reach for the bedroll she was now holding out to him, but pulled his hand back with a startled sound. Another handkerchief appeared, which he waved at her shoulder where his head had been resting, and the whispery feeling of magic followed it. He looked sheepish again, his voice quiet as he grabbed the bedroll, keeping it between them in the same way that she had. “Erm. Bit of… saliva. Sorry.”

“Eugh.” It was a conversational sort of disgusted sound, the kind you made because you didn’t feel like arguing about where things fell on the ‘unpleasant’ scale. Another shrug. “Not the worst thing this jacket has ever seen,” she said. Not even the worst thing it had seen so far _today_ , come to that. Which was a thought. It wasn’t like that spell of his gave him an itemized list of what he was cleaning, right? She couldn’t imagine Hamid coping if it did. “Here, do you think you could…” She waved a hand, imitating his usual flourish. “Bit of a deep clean? Only it doesn’t look like we’re going to see a shower any time soon.”

“Yes, of course.” He seemed to brighten up at that, like he was happy to have been asked. Which made sense; a request that combined magic and fastidiousness with his desperate need to help people must have been a dream come true. “If you wouldn’t mind holding still for a moment…”

This time the hanky fluttering was a more prolonged affair, the white fabric making broad sweeps in front of Sasha and not so much trailing magic as dragging it. She could feel it brushing against her clothing and creating a breeze that swept against the skin under her shirt and made it crawl. _This_ was the sort of feeling that really deserved an _eugh_ , but she kept her genuine disgust under wraps, not wanting to prompt Hamid to stop. It was over quickly enough, and it felt less unpleasant than the drying blood it was whisking away. “Thanks,” she said, letting out a little breath of relief at having that little problem – and that little secret – taken care of for the day.

“Any time,” Hamid assured her. “Really, that one’s no trouble at all.” His brow furrowed, and he raised the handkerchief again. Sasha tensed up again at this sudden concern, bracing for him to ask about exactly what he was cleaning. “You’ve still got a little something under your eye…” he started, waving the handkerchief at her face before he stopped with another apologetic look. “Never mind.”

It had been some time since Sasha had taken a look in a mirror, and yet she felt confident in guessing that he’d been trying to wipe away the dark circles under her eyes. _Yeah, not eyeliner, mate_. “Don’t think those are going away any time soon,” she said, trying to sound light. “What with the death and all.”

“Right,” Hamid said. “That.” He stood up a little straighter, fixing her with what was probably meant to be a confident and decisive look. “We’re going to fix that,” he said earnestly, looking up at her with such soulful sincerity that she couldn’t help believing him. Or at least believing that he meant it at the moment. “I know there’s been a lot to deal with lately,” he continued. “But I promise, as soon as we deal with… all of this, and my family…” He trailed off weakly, letting out a little breath, and Sasha could see a flash of dread she recognized all too well at the prospect of seeing family again.

“Well, yeah,” Sasha said, stumbling over her own surprise at how much faith she was willing to put in his words. “I wouldn’t ask you to skip your sister’s funeral for me. It’s… you know, just… you don’t have to worry about me. I’ve lived with this for a while. Well, not _lived_ , I guess, but you know what I mean.”

“Of _course_ I’m going to worry about you,” Hamid said firmly, waving away her attempt to wave him away. “I’m not losing another person I care about. Especially not the last person who… well, you know. Who was _there_ , right from the start.”

He lowered himself to the ground, reaching for a bag and digging around in it, saving Sasha the trouble of having to respond to that directly. She hadn’t expected that, not really. Oh, she knew well enough that Hamid _liked_ her, which hadn’t ever seemed like that significant a thing since Hamid apparently liked everyone who wasn’t trying to kill him. Hamid had liked _Bertie_ , after all. But having him say so casually that he _cared_ about her was… well, it was nice. And she cared about him, too, she thought, so maybe she shouldn’t have been so shocked by it, but it wasn’t something she was likely to _say_ , especially not so easily. Might be nice, to feel comfortable doing that. “Yeah,” she said, which was about as close as she was likely to get. Then the second half of his statement caught up with her. “Someone who was _where_?”

Hamid made a vague gesture with a chicken leg in one hand – she should have known he’d be after food already. “I mean, everywhere,” he said, still not making himself much clearer. He took a thoughtful breath, pulling whatever else he’d been planning on for breakfast out of his bag and then taking a seat on the pack itself. “We went through so much together, the four of us. Back when it _was_ four of us. And now… there’s nobody else who knows what we went through. What we _did_ for the world, for better or for worse. And nobody but us knows what we have to do next, not really. Not that _we_ have the best idea of that part, I’ll admit.” A shake of his head. “I mean, I _like_ Grizzop,” he said, proving Sasha’s point about the speed of his affections. “But I didn’t almost drown crossing the Channel with him, and I didn’t try to reason with an insane _machine_ with him. And…” He paused, and then let out an incredulous little laugh. “And I’ve only saved the world with him once. Hardly worth mentioning.”

Sasha felt the faintest hint of a smile tug at her lips at that one, and Hamid’s grin got exponentially wider in return. “Yeah,” she said again, only this time it was less of a fumbling agreement and more a real feeling that they might be on the same page about this. It wasn’t that far off from what she’d been thinking while he’d been sleeping next to her. _Two days ago I had a team, and now I have **you**. _ She’d been scared then, as little as she wanted to admit it, as little as she wanted to admit how much she was starting to need this new group of people. “It’s been a lot,” she said. “I guess it was especially a lot for four people, wasn’t it? Even more for two. Or three, I guess,” she corrected herself, looking over at the blanket-lump that was Grizzop. “Should we wake him up, do you think?”

Hamid gave him a thoughtful look, still with that faint smile. “Well, we do want to get a decent start on the day, I’m sure,” he said. “But, well, it’s not as if we know how long we’ve slept here, and time doesn’t exactly seem to be of the essence. Maybe let him sleep a little longer.” A cautious look back at her. “What I mean is, I… wouldn’t mind it being just the two of us for a little while longer, if you don’t. Just… the last of the London Rangers.”

Right, even the name was gone now. One more thing that only the two of them were going to remember. “I don’t mind,” Sasha said. She rummaged around in her own pack and pulled out something that had probably been a sandwich once, then sat down on the ground next to Hamid for a bit of (possibly) early breakfast.

They sat in silence for a little bit, eating and not talking. The first bit was something they’d done often enough, but the second part was unusual, given the incredibly, often _distressingly_ talkative nature of the people Sasha had been surrounded by lately. But now a contemplative quiet had settled over Hamid, and she could feel the weight of his brooding resting against hers. It felt a little like the weight of his body resting against hers had when he was sleeping, something awkward but still somehow comfortable in that it was a reminder that someone was there and sharing this ridiculous and complicated situation with her, the same burden hanging between them.

At least, she thought part of it was the same burden, even though obviously Hamid had his own troubles. And for once in her life, it felt like _she_ was the one who wanted to talk about it. She took a deep breath and let it out in a soft sigh. “I miss Zolf,” she said quietly. “Like, properly miss him.” It hurt a bit to say so out loud, that little spot in her chest that sort of ached when she thought about him nudging at her harder. It felt like waking up in the morning, a different kind of wound opening up again.

Hamid didn’t answer right away, and for a while he was quiet enough that she thought he wasn’t going to.  ”Me too,” he finally said, and his voice was back to that small, sad sound that it had been when he’d just woken up and was being all worried and apologetic at her. His shoulders were slumped in again, and he gave her a sideways look with a weak smile in it. “I keep feeling like… like he’d know what to do. Or like he’d at least have some sense of direction about everything.”

“Or at least he’d know what to say,” Sasha said. She folded up in much the same way he was, resting her chin on her knees. “He shouldn’t have left,” she muttered. The ache was turning into a simmer over the general unfairness of the universe.

“He had to.” Hamid’s voice was firmer this time, but it sounded the way it had when he’d insisted he was all right, and that they were going to fix Sasha. Like he _knew_ it was true, but maybe he didn’t entirely _believe_ it. “He was… dealing with a lot. And he had to handle it his own way, without us. And without Bertie.”

His voice went funny when he said that last part, sort of a sigh that was angry and tired and sad all at the same time. _You know that Bertie was awful, don’t you?_ she’d wanted to ask Hamid more than once. _I know he was your friend and all, but he was still awful_. She’d refrained from saying it thus far out of some sense of… well, she didn’t really understand _much_ about how to deal with people, but she still felt pretty confident that that would be over the line. His tone right now felt like a kind of answer to that question, and the answer was _it’s complicated_. Sasha didn’t feel like dealing with complicated right now. “Do you think he’d come back?” she couldn’t stop herself from asking even so. “Now that he wouldn’t have to deal with Bertie?”

Hamid flinched visibly. “I don’t know. There were other things, too. Just… I think we need to leave him be. But if he wants to come back, he’ll always be welcome.”

She felt her chin jutting out in grim defiance. “Yeah?” she asked, the word coming out in a growl over the rumbling in her chest. “You’ll just be happy to take him back with open arms, then? Like nothing happened?”

Hamid blinked at her, apparently confused by this response. “You just said you missed him,” he said.

“Of course I _miss_ him,” Sasha said. “He _left._ And he shouldn’t have. But you’re talking like we should just _forgive_ him if he changes his mind and decides we’re worth hanging around after all. We should just let him come back, so he can leave again.”

“That’s not–” Hamid shook his head and sighed gently. “I know it hurts,” he said. “Losing people, or having people you trust let you down. But when someone makes a mistake… If they try to fix it, if they try to make it _better_ , they deserve the chance to change. And if you care about them, you should give them that chance. People…” His shoulders hunched in again. “People deserve to be forgiven, if they’re really willing to try to earn it.”

Sasha grunted and leaned back against her own pack beside him. “I guess,” she said, feeling sullen. She didn’t want to be angry at Zolf, who had always been patient regarding all the things about her that she’d always known were strange, and all the things she’d _thought_ were perfectly normal until she’d started spending more time above ground. But the hurt was still there, and it was competing with enough other problems that it wanted to push its way out at someone else. She finished off the last bit of her probable sandwich and slipped a dagger out of her jacket, twirling it absently and balancing it point-first on one finger. She felt like she’d be willing to trade almost anything just to have a tree, or a post, or even a wall, just something to throw daggers at until she managed to throw some of the sadness and bitterness away with them, tearing it to ragged shreds that couldn’t bother her anymore. In absence of anything quite so productive to do, she gave one a flick a few times, seeing how high she could toss it with minimal movement of her wrist. Hamid flinched a little every time she did so, edging away from her slightly, but he didn’t say anything. “What if it’s hard to forgive them, though?”

“I don’t know.” A shrug and a shake of his head. “Time helps, sometimes. And just knowing that they really know they did something wrong and they want to make it right. And… I don’t know. Just… sometimes you have to remember that you trusted someone before they hurt you, and that the kind of people you were already willing to trust, well, they probably didn’t _mean_ to cause any harm. I’m sure Zolf didn’t, even if that’s unfortunately how it ended up going.” Hamid sighed a little. “If the people who made mistakes are really trying, and _you’re_ really trying, there’s not much else you can do but hope that it all comes together eventually.” He gave her a sad little smile. “I hope it does for us.”

“Yeah.” Sasha twirled the dagger a few more times before tucking it back into her pocket, giving it an affectionate pat. It hadn’t helped the way she’d hoped, but it had done its best, and she thought Hamid had done a little bit to help, too. People always said that talking to someone helped, but she’d never quite believed it, herself. “I guess… I mean, like, a lot of people would say that I’ve made a lot of mistakes, wouldn’t they? What with Barrett and everything, and… just everything, really.” She looked up at Hamid. “All the things we’re doing now, the whole ‘saving the world’ thing, that’s probably got to go some way towards making things right, yeah?”

“I hope so.” Hamid closed his eyes and took a deep breath, looking like he was bracing himself for something. “Listen, Sasha, that’s… sort of something I wanted to talk to you about,” he said. “While we’re on the subject of mistakes, and people who are gone, and… just, while we’re talking about all that.”

The comfortable lean Sasha had adopted evaporated instantly, as she sat sharply upright and turned to fix Hamid with what was trying to be a steely glare but was probably more than a little bit jumpy. “Don’t tell me _you’re_ planning on leaving, too,” she said, and there was definitely _not_ a squeak in her voice.

Hamid straightened up almost as sharply as she had. “What? No, I– _no!_ ” He reached out like he was about to take Sasha’s hand, but then thought better of it. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” he told her earnestly, with more conviction than anything he’d said previously. “I might have to take a bit of a detour with, you know, family business being what it is sometimes, and seeing how it seems impossible for us to go _anywhere_ without there being some kind of detour involved, but I’m not walking away from this mission. And I’m not walking away from _you_ , either. I wouldn’t just… _leave_ you here, not unless…” He trailed off, his eyes sliding away from hers. “Not unless you decided you didn’t want me around anymore.”

Sasha exhaled, some of the tension that had flown into her so quickly seeping away. He wasn’t leaving her. He didn’t _want_ to leave her, _her_ specifically. Sticking around was the kind of promise nobody could _really_ be sure of keeping, especially not with their lives being what they’d been recently, but this was probably as close as she’d ever gotten to believing someone would really keep it. “Not likely,” she said, giving him a look that approximated a smile. “Think I’ve gotten used to you.”

He tried to smile back. “Me too,” he said. “And that’s why I just wanted to– to _warn_ you, I suppose. That if we’re going to find Liliana…” He shook his head. “I’ve made mistakes in my life, too, and the worst ones were back in the time when we were together. I’m not the same person I was when she last saw me. I’m a _better_ person, I hope. And I hope she’s going to see it that way. But if she doesn’t…” More trailing off, and a tired and worried look at Sasha. “If someone who has a longer history with me than you do still only sees the awful things I did then, I hope that it doesn’t damage your opinion of me too terribly.”

Sasha wasn’t sure how to react to that. She couldn’t remember anyone having worried about her opinion of them before, especially not someone as fundamentally harmless as Hamid. Sure, he was a bit of an idiot about running into danger, and he was still pretty clueless about the way the world worked outside the little bubble of money he’d been raised in, and then there was the vomiting, but that was really the worst she could think to say about him.  She couldn’t imagine him being capable of anything horrible enough to make _her_ think less of him, not compared to most of the people she’d associated with in her life. “Still doesn’t sound likely,” she said. “And, I mean, you’ve met Barrett and you still like me, and you know what _I’m_ like and you still want to help me.” He still had that worried look, and she shrugged one shoulder. “I guess we haven’t known each other very long, even if it feels like it’s been years sometimes, but I know what you’re like _now_. And you’re… I guess you’re someone I like being around. Not just someone I’m used to.” She hesitated. It was a big thing to say to someone, and she wasn’t sure if it was something she was ready to say it, but she thought maybe Hamid needed to hear it right now. “I’d miss you, if you weren’t here. And I’m glad you _are_ here.”

He breathed out the way she had only a moment ago, leaning forward with relief. “That’s good to hear,” he said. “And… I hope you know that I feel the same way. About being glad you’re here.” The way he smiled at her this time was closer to the real one she was used to seeing from him, even if it felt like she hadn’t seen it in a while.

Sasha didn’t say anything to that, even if this declaration had pushed the last little bit of worry out of her. She settled back down again and returned to leaning back against her pack, her arm only a few inches from his leg. Hamid leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his head about level with hers now, and there was another moment of silent company. But she could still feel his eyes on her, subtle but not subtle enough, and she raised an eyebrow in his direction. “You’re not going to try to hug me, are you?”

He made a tiny offended sound. “Of course not!” His face settled into a sheepish expression once again, but this time there was a kind of humor to it, like he was getting over himself a bit. “Not while I’m awake, anyway.” When she managed a little bit of a laugh, he gave he a more sincere look. “But if you ever want one, or if you just want to talk to someone… I know it’s not likely you will, but I’m here, all the same.”

Sasha almost snorted at that. _Not likely_ , she found herself thinking once again. And yet she had to admit she appreciated the offer, and that, if she thought about it for a bit, she thought she might not actually mind it quite so much if it happened. “Thanks. And, I don’t know, if you ever want to, like, sit up on a rooftop and _not_ talk, I could… give you a boost up, I guess.”

He laughed then, and it was warm and surprised and honest. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

A silent smile passed between them, something unexpected on both ends. On his because it was really silent, and on hers because it was really a smile.

The faint, muffled rustling behind them felt unaccountably loud in the quiet that had descended. Grizzop finally emerged from his cocoon, shifting out of the bedroll like a burrowing worm and blinking in the light. He stared at both of them for a moment, still bleary, then shook himself properly awake. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Did I oversleep? Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Whatever weirdly pleasant moment had been going on was most definitely broken at this point, which wasn’t entirely a bad thing. Better to end it before it got awkward, or at least more so. Sasha waved her response to Grizzop’s ‘good morning’ and then let herself fade into the background of the conversation as the other two talked at, over, and across each other in their efforts to get organized enough to get moving, with Grizzop fussing over the time they’d wasted and Hamid trying to placate him regarding the vague and improbable nature of time here. Sasha rolled to her feet, working out the last of the early-morning aches, and began quietly gathering her things. Let them do all the talking they needed to; she didn’t need to cut in on their bickering just to make sure they knew she was there. They knew, and they’d have something to say about it if she suddenly _wasn’t_ there. That much she was finally beginning to really believe.

_Two days ago, I had a team_. The words came back to her again, finally free of some of the despair they’d brought previously. _Today, I still do_.


End file.
